


Smoke and Mirrors

by chucklingChemist



Series: Alternian Snapshots [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempts at Manipulation, Bullying, Gen, School, Verbal Abuse, kids are cruel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucklingChemist/pseuds/chucklingChemist
Summary: Smoke and mirrors: a tool used by magicians to produce the desired illusory effect. Or, in casual conversation, to obscure or embellish the truth with misleading information. Not good. Not evil. Just one of many tools of the trade of a good socialite. It just so happens that Aramil was anexcellentsocialite





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Gotye's song Smoke and Mirrors, which is just such a damn good song. If you enjoyed Somebody That I Used To Know, this is a quality song.
> 
> Aramil and Pereon belong to [ActualSnowLeopard](https://actualsnowleopard.tumblr.com/)

His name was Aramil.

Aramil Narzul. Prince of the modern generation of trolls. Trolls who could sell their brand completely online thanks to the advent of social media so nuanced the bots were indistinguishable from the trolls. Where on the surface, your popularity was dictated by your follower count (and Aramil had easily over 750,000 -- not that he’s counting) just as much as your caste (of which, being a violetblood, he rested easy in that regard). Any troll could be something where your face wasn’t necessary -- Livechurnal, Grubtube, Chittr, Prongle...with a little elbow grease, quality art, and a quick enough wit, a rust might one day amass enough popularity to pretend to be a green caste on these sites while purples and indigos were left in the dust.

But such was the work of those without the skills to climb the ladder. 

Did he have those qualities? Of course. His friends laughed at every joke, praised his every move. Artfully done pictures of his drinks (non-alcoholic of course, hard liquor belonged firmly with the same guttercastes who invented it) framed against the faintly-rising sun on the ocean gathered more clicks than some websites got in their whole existence. And pictures of his face? With his gently tousled hair and flamboyant, unmarred Sindarian fins paired off with a perfectly smooth and unblemished face, he gathered followers merely at the fantasy they could befriend someone as beautiful as him. If they heard his smooth-as-butter voice with just a hint of a refined accent, they were hooked. 

To say nothing of his artistic exploits. Ignoring his eye for a good shot, Aramil made sure to constantly talk about his love of writing. With a few aesthetic pictures of a notebook filled with loopy script in violet pen, everyone instantly believed him. He didn’t even have to show off any of his writing. He could, though, most certainly. In fact, Aramil was working on a book right now: an epic fantasy about a rag tag group of adventurers questing on a seemingly impossible mission. It’s why he made sure to always carry his husktop wherever he went. At the same time, he wasn’t ready to share it. Or if he was, it wasn’t much. A few snippets here, a passage there. Enough to fit on a well-photoshopped, aesthetically pleasing picture. Enough so no one could call him a liar, or a fraud. Enough to make searching the quote difficult.

Some would call it forgery. Or lying. Aramil called it magic.

He’d been good at magic his whole life. It started in early schoolfeeding. He’d been too disinterested in the classes to do his classwork properly. History and math had its uses, sure, but to him? Someone destined to rise above the traditional military ranking of esteemed seadwellers? He didn’t need it. Aramil focused his efforts on his way with words and his importance to those around him. As a young troll, he brought seadwellers together and did everything he could to strengthen the community. It took no time at all for him to develop a devoted group of followers. And Aramil knew it too. He knew that trolls knew, even early on, the start of his ability to put himself in the right place at the right time.  
At only five sweeps, he was among the most well-known of every troll in his classes. Schoolfeeding mates wanted to be with him. Instructors were willing to give him a pass if his classwork wasn’t quite completed on time thanks to his natural charm. And who cared about being the instructor’s lusus if the students loved you as well? For Aramil, he felt he had the whole private, elite school wrapped around his finger. Not a single troll who didn’t know or disliked him.

Or at least, that’s what he told everyone until one of his many friends pointed at the skinny little troll with his nose buried in a book. “What about that Leiniz kid?” 

Aramil’s fins twitched. “Well, you know how it goes. Guess I forgot about him!” Aramil laughed and linked his arms behind his head. “Hard to get to know someone who’s gonna be a weirdo and not talk to anyone, right?”

He hadn’t forgotten about the kid. No, not really. The idiotic guppy didn’t speak up much, but when he did, that articulate and posh voice made Aramil’s fins and eyes twitch. The kid was just….strange. He didn’t ever try to socialize with other kids in the classes, down to apparently striking some kind of deal with the instructor to do group projects alone. Combined with all the weird questions he asked, nitpicking at irrelevant parts of the hemospectrum or obsessing over whatever creepy stuff he read, and Aramil wanted nothing to do with him. To speak nothing of his “mysteriously missing” dolphin lusus that he probably culled when the drones weren’t looking. Leiniz was only a few decisions from doing something dangerous. Aramil didn’t want to be responsible for accidentally fueling his mental delusions or sending him over the edge for attempting to play his game with the kid.

Then again, he hadn’t thought about it previously, but someone would have to be the whistleblower to when those wheels stopped spinning in air and finally hit the ground. If Aramil pretended to be his friend now, before any major issues arose, he’d know exactly when Leiniz was ready to snap. Or, maybe even, stop it entirely. He’d have the descendant of the one of the great Inquisitorturers in his debt. Leiniz himself might be worthless, but that heritage carried weight. He saw the way new instructors eyes lit up when they saw his symbol pinned to his lapel. Of course, Leiniz didn’t act like it _now_ , but it was a troll’s destiny to finish what the other started. With Aramil’s help, he could one day to that point. 

Well, the longer Aramil mulled on it, the longer he realized maybe pulling the wool over his eyes was worth it.

He clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave him a wide grin. “But it’s not too late to start now, isn’t it?”

His couple friends around him chuckled. One of them even lightly elbowed him in the ribs and said, “Yeah, _right_.” It was as if Aramil began the setup to some sort of punchline to a movie: fake-befriending the weird kid he knew some of the other trolls liked to taunt when he made too much noise, and they weren’t happy with that. Leiniz was, in Aramil and many others eyes, a summation of everything they despised. If Aramil were friends with him, in jest or not (not like _they_ could tell the difference), that would have to stop. As such, his friends expressed their genuine discontent as disbelief, trying to convince him that he’d be wasting those precious few minutes before history started. But Aramil, true to form, ignored them in favor of making his way toward the front desk to help the struggling troll reading away. His friends couldn’t see the mirrors in front of them, hiding his true intentions. They could only see what Aramil wanted them to. And Leiniz would be the next to fall for the trick.

Aramil slid down into the seat next to Leiniz without a single thought, the soft plush of the seat muffling his actions. The guppy didn’t turn to investigate. He just kept his stupid nose buried in whatever dumb chapter book he was reading, some strange hardcover book lacking a cover or title. All Aramil could identify was that it was, in fact, a book. For all he knew, he was reading about one of the brutal genocides of rebel scientists and taking notes.

The briefest flare of worry shot up his spine, but he swallowed it back down. This kid had no one willing to talk to him until today. It’d be his easiest spell yet. No reason to feel a bare second of jitters.

Still, he didn’t make his presence known until Aramil smoothed down his hair and shifted around in the chair to look relaxed and natural. Arms resting against the back of the chair, legs splayed out so much they bumped up against the legs of the table. To the passive onlooker, he’s sat there for hours.

“Hey,” Aramil said casually. It was the only proper way to start any sort of conversation, no matter what the intention. 

Apparently though, Leiniz didn’t get the memo. Instead of answering or even _looking_ at Aramil, he buried himself deeper into the book. Which, personally, Aramil believed is no way to ensure a conversation continues. It’s like the other troll wasn’t even trying. No wonder he didn’t have any friends.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked.

Still no answer. Aramil fought back the urge to release an annoyed huff, letting it instead turn into a long-drawn out sigh. “I’m just curious you know. What’s the harm in getting some suggestions from a classmate?”

“You read.” The answer, while quiet as he refused to look away from the book, was as prompt as it was biting. Not to mention completely undeserved. The most Aramil ever did was mention to his friends that he didn’t have a lusus. It’s not _his_ fault a few of them wanted to chase him all the way down to his hivestem to confirm that. That was their choice, not _his_. 

Anyway, the two lived in the same hivestem, Aramil a few above Leiniz. He didn’t have to chase the kid down to notice the distinct lack of a dolphin swimming around the aquatic section of the hivestem.

“Well _of course_ I do!” Aramil gasped. The gears started to turn in his mind, piecing together the smoothest course for this conversation. This kid already, obviously, disliked him. Which meant he had to pick his next words with a little more grace. “I happen to be a connoisseur of lots of literature outside of class. Like, you know that one about a bunch of rock-eating fantasy creatures teaming up with a wizard and his hivebody friend to stop a dragon? Love that one.”

He idly turned a page of his book. “Mm. I have heard it is good. Perhaps I will read it.”

Aramil grinned, letting pointy teeth poke out of his thin lips. He hadn’t yet popped his head out of the book, but he was talking. This was progress! “Yeah, it really is a great book. Just the best. Like, there’s just so much that goes on in so few pages. And to think it inspired a whole novel series! Really just shows how one spark can influence a whole generation, don’t you think?”

“I would not know. I have not read it.”

“Yeah, well you should!” He clapped Leiniz on the back, feeling every muscle on the other troll’s back tense up at the touch. And did he try to pull away? Or maybe that was Aramil’s own imagination. What kind of seadweller would be upset at a little fraternal touch? “Absolutely fantastic series. Highly recommend.”

“Yes, you said as such earlier.” Leiniz gently set the book down on the table with a shaky sigh. He still didn’t look at Aramil, focusing instead on a spot on a bare wall while wringing his hands. “It is a book on wigglers tales, Aramil, by the Grimdark Narrator. Is that good enough for you?”

Silence filled the air between them. God, did he have to make this so _hard_? Normal kids would’ve been happy to strike up a conversation with him immediately, yet here Leiniz was actively rejecting any of his advances. It was impossible someone as socially inept as him could see through Aramil’s ruse. Not when he’d succeeded so easily for so long. Not when he’d charmed the whole school. That left only one answer.

“I’m just trying to be your friend, Dontag. Is that so hard? Is it so bad to have someone want to be your friend?”

Dontoc’s fins flattened against his face, gaze dropping to the desk. “I--”

“Look, I was trying to do you a favor. No one likes you. We don’t want you here. You’re lucky you’re a seadweller or else you would’ve been culled by someone here perigees ago. Look at yourself. You’re reading this stupid book, not even trying to be part of society like a normal troll.” Aramil swiped the book off the table, ignoring Dontoc’s pitiful protests in favor of flipping through the pages of the book. He didn’t even try to take it back by force. Worthless guppy didn’t deserve friends. “Like this? You know this type of reading isn’t allowed, otherwise you wouldn’t have removed the dust jacket. This book’s filled to the brim with gutterblood propaganda meant to make you feel bad for them wallowing in their own filth, and you’re eating it all up like chum in water. I should just turn it into the teacher and--”

“Don’t!”

Aramil stopped, quirking an eyebrow. For the first time in this whole conversation, the other seadweller looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Don’t? Really? Little too late for that. Unless you...want to be my friend?”

He watched anger flash across Dontoc’s face, but it quickly fizzled. His gaze dropped down once more, fins flattened and shrunken. Defeat. Not what Aramil was initially going for, but if this is what it took to prevent a shooter, he’d gladly accept it. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“So we’re friends?”

“No. I...” he swallowed thickly. Dontoc stood up out of his chair, not even bothering to grab a stack of textbooks previously obscured by his body. He tried to blink away a few tears, but they still left lavender stains down his face. “Turn the book in. I don’t care. Just please, _leave me alone_. For once.”

He watched, gaping, as Dontoc sped out of the classroom to go….somewhere. Aramil didn’t care where. Not if Dontoc was going to be so standoffish. 

Aramil drummed his fingers on the book. Whenever Dontoc returned, he’d give the book back. Or better yet, drop it off at his hivestem. The teacher would figure out what he’s reading eventually anyway. He wouldn’t let himself be the bad guy in this situation. Just because one spell backfired, didn’t mean the rest had to. Even at such a young age, he was too good for that.

As the instructor walked in mere seconds later, she walked in with a kindly smile and a nod in Aramil’s direction. She didn’t seem to notice his pensive expression and lack of supplies at his desk. He blinded her long ago to such worries. “Where’s Dontoc? He’s normally here on time.”

Aramil shrugged, shifting around in his chair into a correct seating position for learning. “He felt ill. I’m keeping an eye on his stuff. Make sure no one steals it.”

The teacher clapped her hands together, kindly smile broadening. “Excellent! I’m so happy he’s starting to open up. And to you, especially. How wonderful.”

The grin that spread across her face was infectious, and it made Aramil’s previous tense face break out into his own knowing smile. Best put on a show now, it’d likely help him later on. “Of course. Just doing my job helping the community and helping steer people on the right track.”

***

Aramil shook his head. It didn’t do well to dwell on his failures. Not now, when his level of influence alone gave him enough credentials to land him at a party hosted by the Heiress Apparent. He hadn’t met her, not yet, but he would eventually. But for now, the party was still young and he had his focus set on the bar (fully stocked with the finest wines that looked great in a shot) and the cute little tealblood with half-moon glasses sitting at it with a dour expression. She didn’t hold much in terms of influence, and wouldn’t move himself upward in any direction, but she was cute, the conversation was pleasant and she appeared interested in the novel he was working on. That was enough for him for now. Who knows, maybe something would happen later.

However, fate had other plans for him. Right when Aramil went to ask for her name, an unfortunately familiar face of a pitiful troll with messy hair and symbol pinned to a well-pressed suit came into view. He gave Aramil the barest nod of acknowledgement and little more. Aramil didn’t acknowledge him at all. 

Worthless guppies didn’t deserve acknowledgement.

“Dear, can I speak to you in private for a moment?” Dontoc asked. The tealblood nodded, hopping off the barstool and letting Dontoc drag her away to leave Aramil alone. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

Whatever. Must’ve been a quadrant of his. Figures a worthless lowblood sympathizer would end up shacking up with some air breather. 

But where one door closes, another opens. And in this instance, the open door came in the form of another troll, a pretty seadweller in a formal outfit with so little clothing that calling it a dress would be too nice. She slid into the recently emptied barstool with all the grace a seadweller should have and positioned herself immediately to face him.

“Hello,” she said smoothly. Her violet lips curled into a friendly smile as she extended a hand to shake. “You must be Aramil.”

Aramil took her outstretched hand immediately. “I am indeed. Who’s asking?”

“Pereon. Left hand to the future Empress. Can we talk? She wishes to meet you.”

Ah. The Heiress must want to meet with him. It was sooner than he expected, but not at all surprising. He’d done such a good job fooling others, that, at this point, what else could happen? Aramil gave Pereon an equally friendly, albeit fake, smile and nodded. It was time to play the game. This time, he wouldn’t lose. If he could get the Heiress on his side, he’d never lose again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are always appreciated, if nothing else they make feel warm.
> 
> Also feel free to check me out on [Tumblr](https://chuckling-chemist.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/stormscourge)!


End file.
